Flight
by DeanLittle67
Summary: Slight AU Diverging from 8x23. What if Arizona had never taken Alex's seat on the plane? How would their stories have been different? Alex-centric.
1. Chapter 1

Day One

He knew she was pissed. He understood why, but he hoped that the separation would help them. Alex Karev was the last to board the plane, the other five already up the steps and in their seats. He knew that going to Hopkins was hurting Arizona. He knew that she wanted him as her fellow, but Hopkins wanted him. Hopkins wanted Alex Karev, the boy who had been through so much, who had survived so much. They wanted the loser kid from Iowa who had gone to juvie, who had two schizos in the family, who failed his entrance intern exams. How could he pass up an offer like that? How could Arizona not understand?

As he took his seat, he looked at the other doctors who were going with him to Boise. Meredith had her head resting on Derek's shoulder, his arm wrapped around her. Lexie and Mark sat next to each other, and he could see them send the occasional glance. He didn't know what was going on with them, but he could see that they loved each other even if they weren't willing to admit it. He took the only seat available behind Cristina.

Thinking about Hopkins made him think of where they all started. It seemed like yesterday they were bright-eyed and bushy-tailed interns ready to make their mark. Now, they were three Board Certified surgeons. He tried not to think of the other two that weren't with them, tried to keep his mind off his ex-wife who had disappeared to God-knows-where and O'Malley who had just wanted to impact the world in a positive way. Twisted Sisters. Dr. Model. 007. Evil-Spawn. They'd had their ups and their downs, but they were a team who had been split up by life.

He didn't notice when the plane had taken off, his mind too caught up in his thoughts. However, once he noticed they were in the air, he put his headphones in and turned the MP3 volume up as high as he could, trying to drown out Meredith and Derek's conversation. His eyes closed as he slowly drifted off to sleep.

In his dreams, he was flying, but not in a plane. He was freefalling, able to see the ground below him. He could hear his own screams, he could hear his father and his mother, he could hear Arizona. Everyone he'd ever let down was screaming at him, cursing him. The next thing he knew, everything went black.

The first thing he felt was searing pain coursing through his body. His eyelids were heavy, the sounds of muffled screaming coming through the ringing in his ears. As he opened his eyes, he could make out the shapes of the trees, the leaves swimming above him. Wasn't he supposed to be in a plane?

"Derek!" Meredith's voice was the first to pierce through the screaming. Who was screaming? That's when he realized that the screams were tearing from his chest, his throat burning with each yell. "Derek!" Their screams mingled together, clashing. He looked down at his body, his leg the source of a majority of the pain. Clawing at the fabric, it finally ripped away to reveal a sight he didn't want to see.

His upper thigh was mangled, skin shredded. The femur was jutting out at a disgusting angle, at least six inches of bone showing. His chest burned as he held back the screams, whimpering slightly. "Derek!" Meredith screamed again, but the only thing he could focus on was his leg and trying to keep the pain at bay.

"Alex," he heard Cristina say from beside him. She was kneeling on the ground, her hands trying to keep his bleeding at bay. He hadn't even felt her hands on his leg until she brought him out of his thoughts. The ground was wet, soaking through the clothes on his back.

"I can't lose it, Yang." His voice pleaded with her, and she nodded. Hopkins wouldn't want him if he lost his leg. Hopkins wouldn't wait that long for him. If he lost the leg, it would be months of healing before he could be fitted for a prosthetic - if he would even qualify for one. There might not be enough leg to salvage to fit one, or there would be too much nerve damage that would cause too much pain to be fitted for one.

"I have to find Mark and Lexie. Meredith is looking for Derek. I'll be back, Alex." She stood, and he started to panick. He could tell the pilot was dead from the way his body was mangled and bent in the cockpit. She couldn't leave him alone, so he grabbed her arm before she could turn away.

"Don't." His voice was pleading. "Please don't."

"I'll be back." She ripped her arm from his grasp, walking away and leaving him alone with a still bleeding leg, pain, and fear.

They were all in shock. All of his medical knowledge told him that they were all in shock. Cristina most likely had some kind of injury that she hadn't noticed yet. Had this been an 'ideal' crash, they'd all be in c-collars and on backboards being prepared for x-rays and CT scans. Instead, they were stranded in the middle of the woods in God-knows what state. They could still be in Washington, or they could be in Montana, Oregon, or Idaho.

If he didn't know where they were, how would any rescue party? How would they be found? Panic filled his already panicking body. His heart raced faster and faster until he was short of breath and his head swam and his ears rang.

"I'm gonna die," he muttered to himself as his breathing finally slowed to a reasonable speed. The birds chirped around him, and he could hear a stream in the distance. A banging sound mixed with the sounds of nature. A survivor? He could only hope, but at the same time, he could hope that it was the sounds of someone not involved in the crash. He hoped it was someone like Derek who lived in the middle of the God-damned woods and would stumble across them. Or maybe it was the sounds of a factory on the outskirts of a city.

"You're gonna be okay, Lexie," he could hear Mark say, almost a pleading voice. Turning his head to the side, he saw Mark carrying Lexie, Cristina following closely behind with her arm in a sling. "You're gonna be fine."

"Lay her down next to Alex," Cristina instructed. Alex could see the look shared between the two surgeons, Mark almost pleading with Cristina. "Just do it, Mark. So that we can see the damage done." Before Alex could ask anything, Lexie was being laid next to him. There was blood on the corners of her mouth. Her skin was pale, and her breathing was shaky with every breath.

"She's going to be okay, right?" Mark asked, as if Cristina had xray vision.

Alex laughed internally. This shouldn't be happening to any of them. Mark and Lexie would get together eventually, be happy with a family. She'd go into neuro with Derek while Mark would keep insisting she needed to go into plastics so that he and Avery would have somebody else in the Plastics Posse. She'd laugh him off and be happy in neuro. Cristina would excel as a cardio god, securing a spot at any hospital she even thought of working at. She'd be the new innovator, be the new Preston Burke. She'd find somebody who wouldn't want kids either, and she'd be as happy as she could be. Meredith and Derek would have several kids running around their house in the woods. They'd be happy, grow old together. Hopefully she'd never get Alzheimer's, but if she did, he'd be there for her every step of the way. And Alex… He'd find a girl and settle down eventually. He'd blow everybody at Hopkins away with his skill - the skill he'd gotten from Arizona Robbins. He'd be the best pediatric surgeon in the country.

He was ripped out of those thoughts of excellence and happiness by searing pain in his thigh. His eyes shot open, looking at the culprit. Cristina was trying her best to splint the leg, trying being the key word. It just felt like she was mangling him further, felt like she was stabbing him repeatedly. Where was Kepner when you needed her? Hell! Where was George? Both of those were the two trauma surgeons he would trust with something like this. Maybe Hunt would be at the top of that list, but still, Cristina Yang should not have had her hand in his leg.

"I think I've gotten it splinted enough to make it decently stable. Lexie was crushed under the wing of the plane, but Mark and I were able to get her out. Meredith is still looking for Derek," she told him, filling him in. "Your leg is broken, obviously. And my shoulder was dislocated, but Mark popped that back in. Mark seems to be okay besides some shock."

"Mer? How's Mer?" he finally asked as his heartbeat slowed and the pain started to subside into more of a dull ache.

"I...I don't know. She went to look for Derek." He deduced from this that Cristina most likely had a head injury along with her shoulder. If she didn't, she wouldn't have let Meredith go off on her own after a trauma. She would have at least checked her friend over to make sure she was okay before going to look for Derek.

"The plane crashed," Mark said softly, talking to nobody in particular. "The plane fucking crashed."

Alex turned his head to look at the man sitting next to Lexie. One of his hands was holder hers, the other stroked through her hair softly, soothingly as if he was petting a dog. He was pale, but Alex figured it was from the shock of it all. After all, their plane crashed in the middle of the woods. Who knew when they were going to be found, if at all?

That was a terrifying thought. What if they were never found? What if it was weeks or months before they were? He didn't want to think about trying to find a food source, the extremes that they may have to resort to. He'd read too many articles and watched too much television when it came to the topic of forced cannibalism. It was a terrifying thought. He just let his eyes slip shut.

When he woke again, it was to Cristina violently shaking him. Meredith sat next to an obviously unconscious Derek. She kissed his forehead, held his hand. When Alex looked closer, he saw that it was a _very_ mangled hand. He could only imagine what had happened. Mark was still sitting next to Lexie, his eyes closed and breathing shallow.

"What?" he managed to choke out as the pain flooded back. Cristina helped him sit up, causing the pain to intensify until tears stung his eyes.

"We have to keep you moving as much as we can so that a blood clot doesn't form," she told him. "The same goes with Mark, Mer, and Derek. Obviously, because of Lexie's crush injuries, I can't get her moving, but the rest of you. That's not a problem, not much at least."

As Cristina walked away, he was blinded by the setting sun. Had it really been that long since the plane crashed? They'd boarded around ten in the morning, and sunset wasn't until close to seven or eight. If they'd been in the air for a few hours, that would mean the crash was around noon or one, and now it was already sunset. Their first day was almost up.

"How's Derek and Meredith?" he finally asked. Cristina knelt in front of Mark, turning her head to look at Alex.

"Meredith has a scalp lac. Derek's hand apparently was caught in part of the plane. According to Mer, he had to break his own hand, so not good. When they got back, we had to sew up a deep lac in his wrist. I wouldn't be surprised if he can't operate anymore."

She turned back to Mark, trying to get him to wake up. "Come on, Mark." She shook his shoulder harder, but with no luck. As she did a once over, Alex noticed bruising peaking out from the collar of his scrub-top.

"Cristina. Look at his chest," he suggested. She ripped the shirt away, revealing a bruise that covered a majority of his chest. "Shit."

"Shit's right, Evil-Spawn. Fucking cardiac tamponade." She stood, looking around the wreckage. What she was trying to look for, he didn't know. "Meredith! I need your help. Help me find a first-aid kit or something I can use to relieve Mark's tamponade."

"Mark has a tamponade?" she asked as she stood. Alex could only sit there and watch the two rummage through the debris, hoping they found something. Sure, he wasn't Mark's number one fan, but he was a good man. Lexie loved him, Avery adored him. Plus, Alex wasn't one to wish someone dead just because he didn't like them as a professional. He knew Mark was a nice guy in general, and he could only hope the two could find a way to save him.

"I found a first aid kit," Meredith finally said, jogging over with the small box. The two knelt next to Mark, laying him on the ground. Alex had managed to scoot himself over the few feet, the pain becoming blinding and white-hot.

"We don't have a needle, or a scalpel," Alex pointed out as Meredith removed the contents from the first aid kit. As she did so, he looked at each item until she pulled out two that would help with the process. "Those!" Her hands stopped moving, holding onto the objects.

"Scissors and a spray bottle?" Cristina asked, confused. Alex just looked at her, dumbfounded.

"Cut the nozzle off the spray bottle to leave just the tube. Use the sanitizer in the bottle as an antiseptic. Cut him open with the scissors acting as a scalpel and use the tube as a needle to decompress. It's not ideal, but hell, none of this is," he reminded them, motioning between the three and his own leg.

Cristina nodded as Meredith followed the instructions on how to make the makeshift needle. He realized his point was more valid than he'd originally thought. None of this was ideal. Ideally, they'd be in Boise prepping for the surgery. Or maybe they'd be in the middle of surgery by now. Ideally they wouldn't be stranded in the middle of the woods, injured and dying.

"Okay, Yang. You've done this a thousand times before. Make the incision and use the plastic tubing to evacuate the blood from around his heart," he said calmly.

He could see her hands shaking as she did so. Her arm had to have been hurting considering the un-ideal reduction of the displaced joint. As she made the first shaky cut, Mark's eyes flew open, a scream bubbling from his chest. Rather than letting those screams escape, Meredith held him down as Alex covered his mouth with a jacket he found on the ground. Cristina followed Alex's directions perfectly until they saw the blood flow out from the tube and down onto the ground. Slowly, Mark's color came back, his breathing steadied, and his eyes drifted shut yet again.

When she removed the tube, she leaned back against the cockpit of the plane and looked at Alex. The look shared said everything they couldn't. The two were too stubborn to admit their friendship outloud, to thank each other, to tell each other that they really did care. Even in this situation, it wasn't something the two would do. Both were too stubborn. Meredith stood, leaving the two with their mutual look of understanding to sit with Derek again. As the sun set, Alex sent a silent prayer, begging God to help them.


	2. Chapter 2

Day Two

He expected to wake up in his own bed at the house, blankets pulled up around him as he slept on his side facing the window. He expected the warmth, the safety of his own home. However, those expectations were shattered as soon as he opened his eyes to the blinding sun casting its way through the trees. He heard Mark talking to Lexie next to him, whispering promises they knew weren't going to be kept.

"We're going to get married," he heard Mark say softly. "And we're gonna have a couple of kids running around. We're gonna be happy."

"So Sofia… Can… Have sib-siblings," Lexie managed to say between pained breaths. Alex wasn't sure how she was still alive, to be honest. He'd gotten a good look at her. Her legs were crushed. Cristina hadn't been able to find pulses below the waist. She was struggling to breathe, blood trickling out of the corners of her mouth every few hours, adding to the red staining on her pale cheeks. Every hour that passed, Alex was surprised she was still alive.

"Have you slept at all, Cristina?" Derek asked from the other side of Alex. He turned his head to face the other group. Derek was sitting up against a large tree, Meredith sleeping with her head on his lap. Cristina was pacing in front of them, her hands running through her messy hair every couple of seconds.

"Have to keep you idiots alive," she muttered in response after a moment of silence. Rather than continuing to listen to their conversation or listen to Mark's desperate attempts to promise Lexie the world, he let his head fall back and his eyes shut again. The only problem was that his body didn't let him sleep as the pain intensified as he shifted slightly trying to get more comfortable. There was no getting comfortable in this situation.

He tried sitting up, a scream ripping from his chest as the leg shifted, jostling Cristina's "splint," if it could even be called that. Cristina was a cardiothoracic surgeon, not a fucking trauma surgeon. How she even knew how to do a splint was beyond him? He knew she'd done rotations in the Pit and on Trauma, they all had, but she hadn't been off of Cardio's service in nearly three years. His mind went back to the 'ideal' situations he'd thought of the day before, remembering that none of this was ideal.

When the screams subsided and his breathing slowed, Cristina helped him sit all the way up. "How's Mer?" he asked softly, throat raw, before she handed him a bottle of water.

"She's still asleep. We'll see how bad the head injury is when she wakes up. I tried keeping her awake, but… No luck," the woman answered softly. He could hear the exhaustion in her voice.

"My leg… How bad is it, Yang?" He could have looked down at seen the mangled mess, but he wanted an objective view. He wanted the truth, and he knew Cristina would tell him the truth.

"Mid-femur open fracture with significant deformity and blood loss. It would be best to tourniquet it at this point, but we don't know when help is coming and you know as well as I do we only have two hours before there's tissue damage. I mean, if I do the tourniquet, you're looking at losing your leg. If I don't, there's still a good chance of losing your leg. It's up to you Alex." He didn't know what to think. It was a lose-lose situation.

"Just… Let's just see how long it takes for them to get here, okay?" Cristina nodded in agreement to his request, standing and working her way around the group. He watched her closely, watched how her movements slowed every few minutes. He saw how her eyes would drift shut momentarily before jerking herself awake again. He saw how exhausted she was, but how she wouldn't let herself sleep. He didn't know if it was her not wanting to look vulnerable or if it was truly because she cared.

"Hey," Derek said softly. Alex didn't know how much time had passed since he'd sat up. It could have been minutes, hours. Hell, it could have been days for all he knew. He looked at Derek and Meredith. Her head was still on his lap, eyes only half-open.

"Why are you… talking so loud?" she croaked out. Both Derek and Alex looked confused, Meredith only seeing Derek's look of confusion. "God, my head hurts." She squeezed her eyes shut again.

He zoned out Derek's concerned words, zoned out Mark's empty promises and Lexie's dying breaths. He zoned out Cristina's constant questions and vitals and doctoring. He zoned out the sounds of the nature around him. He tried to focus on feeling that he was there. He focused on his heartbeat and his breathing and the feeling of his life inside of him.

He wanted to be home, in his bed, in his trailer. He wanted to be wrapped in warm blankets, sleeping. He wanted to feel safe and secure. Not only that, he wanted to be back at Seattle Grace with Arizona and his patients. He missed them, all of them. He missed their enthusiastic stories and their innocence. He missed it all. He didn't want to die in the woods.

"How you feeling?" Cristina asked after a seemingly long break. When he opened his eyes, the sun was setting again. How did time seem to go by differently? Was it because of the injuries, was it because they were in the middle of the woods? It took him a minute to assess the change between the last time he was awake and that moment.

"Feeling… Cristina," he looked at her with fear. "I can't. I can't feel below the break. Cristina, I can't feel my leg." She thought for a moment before grabbing a piece of shrapnel and slicing a thin line in the calf of the affected leg. "Still nothing. Cristina, you cannot let me lose my leg."

"Evil Spawn…" Her tone told him everything he needed to know. "The only way to save your leg is going to be getting you into an operating room in the next twenty-four hours - give or take. I cannot control how soon the rescue party gets here. I cannot operate on your leg without knowing everything that's wrong with it."

He clenched his jaw and shut his eyes, shutting her out. He could feel the tears stinging and the lump rise in his throat, but he wasn't about to let himself cry.

"Mer, you have to stay awake," Derek said softly. Alex didn't have to look to see that Meredith was falling asleep. He could picture Derek shaking her awake as soon as her eyes shut. Due to the severity of the headache she was experiencing, he knew Derek was thinking it was a brain bleed of sorts and that the safest thing was to keep her awake. The only thing that might save her would be a rescue party.

He found it hilarious. A rescue party would be the only thing that would save most of them. Alex was most likely going to lose his leg if they didn't come soon. Lexie was probably going to die. Cristina would go certifiably insane. Derek would lose function of his hand. Meredith would have permanent brain damage. And Mark… A cardiac tamponade once did not bode well for his cardiac function.

When he got out of this mess, he was going to stay at Seattle Grace. Hopkins wouldn't want him and wouldn't wait for him. Arizona wanted him, had been fighting to keep him. He'd get better, regain mobility. He'd succeed. He hoped he'd find a girl better than Izzie ever was. He was hopeful. Hope was the only thing keeping any of them alive.


	3. Chapter 3

Day Three

His eyes opened to the sounds of screaming, just like the first day, just like right after the plane crash. And again, he couldn't figure out where it was coming from. He couldn't figure out who was in so much pain that inhuman screams would rip from their bodies. He couldn't figure it out until his lungs were screaming for air and his throat was torn. His screams ripped from him, sending him back to when he first woke up that first day. Were they really starting their third day?

"Alex," he heard Derek say softly, holding onto his hand. He could feel Cristina messing with the splint again. "Alex, I need you to breathe, okay? Just breathe." He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to do as Derek told him, but he found it hard.

"Tell. Me. Some. Thing. Good," he managed to grit out before he opened his eyes. Glancing down at Cristina, he saw what she was really doing. He saw her pulling maggots out of the wound. He still couldn't feel anything below the break, but he could feel every movement she made in the wound.

"When we get back, Callie's going to fix you up," Derek told him, "and you're going to go to Hopkins. And you're going to kick their asses and show them what you're made of. You're going to meet an amazing woman – meet your Mer – and you're going to be happy, Alex. You just have to keep fighting. Look at Mark and Lexie. They're giving each other hope to survive."

He wanted to believe Derek – in his heart – but his head said otherwise. His head said they were starting on the third day in the middle of nowhere. His head told him they were running low on clean water and food. His head told him he most likely had a massive infection, told him Meredith had a severe concussion, Lexie had internal bleeding that was only a matter of time. His mind told him that as much as his heart wanted Derek to be right, Derek was wrong.

"Just a couple more seconds, Alex. Just breathe," Cristina assured him. The seconds seemed too long, more like minutes. Those seconds she promised dragged on into minutes and the minutes felt like hours which in turn felt like an eternity. It felt as if her hands were digging around in his leg – in the flesh and muscle and blood – for an eternity.

"Please, just stop!" he begged. "Stop!" He squeezed his eyes shut, muscles tensing. Derek held him, let him cry and beg and scream as Cristina finished up.

"I'm done, Alex. I'm done." With a shaky breath, he tried to relax. He willed his muscles to relax, but he couldn't. His muscles would not let him relax. He had just felt his colleague, his _friend_ , dig her hands around in his leg in order to remove the maggots and bugs that had made their home in him.

"Just try to sleep, Alex, just try to…" Derek's voice drifted off, the edges of Alex's vision becoming blurry until it all went black.

"Meredith, I need you to calm down," Alex heard as he woke up again. The pain was gone, couldn't feel anything below the break or above until his hip. He was shaking, felt like he was soaking wet. "Meredith. Calm down."

He turned his head, vision still blurry. Meredith was pacing, screaming incoherently with Derek standing in front of her. She was visibly shaken, visibly losing her mind. He didn't know what Derek was trying to do, nor did he understand what was going on really.

"Calm down?! Calm down?! You want me to calm down?" she screamed at him. "We're in the middle of the damn woods, Derek! We're in the middle of the damn woods and Lexie and Mark are dying and Alex is going to lose his leg and you your hand and Cristina hasn't slept in three days and my head like it's going to feel like it's going to explode, so don't tell me to calm down, Derek!"

Alex closed his eyes, trying to drown out the yelling. Instead, he tried to focus on Mark and Lexie. Cristina was babbling about Mark's heart and Lexie's crush injuries to them, but he tried focusing on the conversation the two were having with each other.

"I need you to make it, Lex," Mark told her softly. "I need you to stay awake a little longer." He could hear Lexie breathing, could hear the gurgling of the blood in her airway. He could hear Mark's groans every few minutes from the pain. He tried to focus on them. They weren't freaking out. Instead, they were living their last few moments together as much as they could.

Alex could guarantee that if somebody didn't make it out of the woods, it would be Lexie. He could guarantee that Cristina was exhausted, that Meredith felt like she was going crazy. He could guarantee a lot of things, but he could… He could tell that Lexie and Mark were the real deal, as much as Derek and Meredith were, but Lexie and Mark were really the star-crossed lovers story.

"Lexie, open your eyes," Mark pleaded. "Keep your eyes open, please Lexie. Please." Mark grabbed her hand, and Alex could hear her breathing for a few minutes. "I love you, Lexie. Please. Please. Please." He saw the tears fall down the man's cheeks onto Lexie's hand. Mark kissed her hand, brushed her hair back, kissed her forehead and cheeks. "I want you to stay for me, but… It's okay to let go, Lexie. It's okay."

Alex could hear her breathing for a couple more seconds until the gurgling silenced. He heard her last breath until it was just the sound of Mark's cries and Derek and Meredith's screaming. He heard his own heartbeat, the sound of his own breathing. He heard the sounds of the forest around him. He heard the sounds of guarantee and abandonment. He heard the sounds of death.


	4. Chapter 4

Day Four

He didn't know what he was hearing when he woke up. The sun was blinding, his mouth was dry, and his leg… He didn't know if his leg was even there anymore. He could feel his heart beating. He could feel his chest rise and fall with each breath – with each agonizing breath. He looked over at Mark, still holding onto Lexie's hand. She'd been dead for hours at that point. He figured it had been eleven or twelve hours since she died. He didn't know what he was hearing. He couldn't figure out what was casting shadows on the trees.

He looked around the small campsite they'd threw together. Mark and Lexie were in what was left of the plane, blanket pulled around his shoulders. Derek was laying on his side, curled up next to Meredith who was pressed against his chest. Cristina was leaning against a tree, eyes wide open, but not moving. She was too exhausted to move. And Alex… Alex was awake on his back, shaking, breathing ragged, looking up at the sky.

He'd never noticed how blue the sky really was. He never appreciated the sky like he should have. He never really saw the beauty in it. Before then, it was just the sky. It was just the rise and fall of the moon and sun. It wasn't until this had all happened that he really saw the sky for what it was. They had been keeping track of the days with the rise and fall of the sun and moon. They had been surviving by the cycles and the sky and the stars.

"We're here to help," he heard a man say to him. He was rolled onto a backboard, an IV started in his left arm. He felt his pants be cut away and a proper splint was applied to his leg. "Five survivors, one casualty," the man said to the other rescuers.

As he was lifted into the helicopter, his heart started racing. His mind went back to the plane. The last time he was in the air, they crashed. They crashed in the middle of the woods. They were the one percent, and not in the good way.

"I'm pushing some Versed. I might suggest we do that for everybody. Their plane crashed, and if they see they're getting on a helicopter… Well…"

He could feel his heart slow, could feel his breathing even out. The shaking subsided, the shaking that hadn't stopped in days. As he looked up at the sky, he wondered how he'd never seen it before. He didn't understand how he had never appreciated the miracle of the rise and the fall of the sun and the moon.

"Alex." He could tell who the voice was. Subconsciously, he knew who the voice belonged to, but he couldn't think of a name. He couldn't put a face to the voice, or a name to the voice. He struggled to open his eyes, but when he did, he was face to face with the only person he wanted to see.

"Arizona," he croaked out. The shaking was back. His skin felt like it was on fire but as cold as ice. "I…I can't feel my leg, 'Zona. I…I can't…" She took his hand in hers as he squeezed his eyes shut.

"It's going to be okay, Alex. You're at a hospital in Yakima, and we're going to transport you guys to Seattle Grace. Your leg is still attached to your body, but Alex…" He understood what she was trying to get at.

"You cannot have my leg," he told her, voice stern. "I do not give you permission to take my leg. If I am septic, you cannot take my leg. If I am dying, you cannot take my leg. Arizona, I can't live without my leg." He didn't realize that tears were in his eyes until she wiped them away.

"I will fight for you to keep your leg, but Alex. If it comes down to it, I will call your sister, and I will get permission to take your leg. So, I will fight for you, but you deserve to survive, Alex."

"If I'm dying, you can take my leg. Until then, no. I better be a flat-line before you take my leg. Hopkins isn't going to want me anymore, are they?" It astonished him how his mind went to Hopkins. He hadn't thought of them since the first day, since he woke up from the plane crash.

"They'd be fools to not wait for you. But Alex… If they won't take you, you have a spot with me. I didn't fill our Fellowship because it has always belonged to you. So, if they won't wait for you, I will." A doctor walked in, talking to Arizona, but Alex wasn't paying attention. He didn't understand why Arizona wouldn't fill the Fellowship. It was highly sought after, so many residents around the country were fighting for that spot. But apparently, it was always his spot. He didn't understand.

"Alex," she said, pulling him out of his thoughts. "They're going to sedate you so that they can transport you back to Seattle Grace. I will be by your side the entire way, okay? I will be with you the entire time." She held onto his hand, giving it a squeeze as the doctor pushed the sedative.

"'Zona…" he called out. "Don't… Leave…"

"I won't, Alex. I won't." He didn't see the tears streaming down her face as they secured the blanket and the splint. He didn't see her look at the other four and thank God that things looked like they might eventually be okay. Instead, his mind went to why he never appreciated the sky.


	5. Chapter 5

Post Rescue Day 1

"God, it hurts," he groaned, hands gripping the bedsheets of the hospital bed at Seattle Grace. Arizona was sitting next to him in the chair reading charts to him, updating him on the patients she'd taken from him. It wasn't theft, per se, but he'd much rather be the one treating his patients. "Make it stop."

"The only way to make it stop is to remove the leg. You know this Alex. I've been telling you this all day." He didn't want to listen to her. He understood her reasoning and her concern. He had been in the woods for four days with an open wound with severe blood loss, nerve damage, infection, as well as infestation.

"Make it stop _without_ chopping my leg off." That request wasn't possible though, and he knew it. There was extensive bone injury as well as tissue infection. As soon as the infection started eating away at the bone, it was only a matter of time. He could feel himself shaking again, being transported back to the woods where he was shaking and cold and dying. He could feel himself dying, but not dying at the same time. He still couldn't feel the entirety of his leg. "How's everybody else?"

"Callie's working with Derek to assess the nerve damage in his hand. She's not hopeful, but she's looking into new techniques and procedures to try and help him regain function. Meredith has a severe concussion, but no head-bleed, which was surprising to all of us. Cristina is under sedation right now to try and help lessen the exhaustion, but Hunt thinks that when they bring her back, she still won't sleep. Mark… Mark's surging, Alex. It's only a matter of time."

She sat the charts down, leaning forward and looking at him. He didn't want to look her in the eye, didn't want to see the disappointment, but he did anyway. She was his mentor, his friend, and she just wanted what was best for him. He understood that much.

"Don't look at me like that," he pleaded, hoping she would stop. He hoped that she would leave it be.

"Alex. Lexie is dead, and Mark is dying. Cristina is about to have a mental breakdown, and Derek may never operate again. I'm asking you, Alex, as your friend to consider this. Consider letting Callie help you. I don't want to lose you. We can't handle losing you too, Alex." He saw tears in her eyes as she looked at him.

"I better be flat-lining when you take my leg." His words came out harsher than he'd liked them to, but it was said – several times in fact. He'd told her several times over the past day what his wishes were. She sighed, standing up and walking out without another word, leaving him alone. The one thing he didn't want was to be alone, but he realized that he was pushing her away. All she wanted was for him to be okay. All she wanted was for him to not die from septic shock. And he was pushing her away for wanting to help him and protect him and _save_ him.

He closed his eyes, trying to fall asleep. All he wanted was to sleep this away. He wanted to wake up and have everything be okay. He wanted to wake up and the infection be gone, and have Hopkins want him again, and for his leg to still be there. He wanted Arizona joking with him and pushing him to be the best he could be. Finally, the blackness engulfed him, and the pain subsided if only for a little while.

"Doctor Alex Karev sustained a mid-femur open fracture of the right leg from a plane crash. Signs of septic shock as well as loss of feeling in the extremity. Doctor Karev has been informed of the course of treatment, but has denied consent to treat to the full extent. He's currently on multiple antibiotics as well as morphine to keep the pain tolerable," the young intern told the group. He'd seen her in and out a few times when he was awake, checking his vitals and just checking up on him in general.

"I told you I didn't want to be a case study, Torres!" he exclaimed. He was kind enough to let the intern finish her presentation. It wasn't her fault that Callie wouldn't listen to his requests. She kept pushing and pushing to amputate, and he was pushing back. He was refusing to amputate, refusing to be a case study, refusing all treatment except for antibiotics and painkillers. "Just get out!"

Callie looked at him the same way Arizona did, with pity and sadness. The intern, on the other hand, looked at him differently. She looked at him quizzically, as if he was a puzzle she was trying to figure out. It would have been okay had he have been a medical mystery they were trying to figure out, but he wasn't. He was just a guy who refused to let them take his leg. Callie left, but the intern stayed.

"Why won't you let her save your life? You're a doctor, Doctor Karev. You know the odds of you dying of septic shock are almost guaranteed if you don't let her operate. I want to understand. Why?"

Her brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, one arm holding the clipboard while the other rested at her side. She stood with confidence, with arrogance, just like he had when he was in her position. The only difference was that she held herself a little differently. She held herself with not only arrogance, but also with confidence and likeability. She was able to make him like her right off the bat.

"It's none of your damn business!" he practically yelled. She visibly flinched at his outburst before turning away and walking out. How could she understand? He was whole, and if they took his leg, he wouldn't be whole anymore. He'd be broken, damaged goods. He'd be back where he started in Iowa trying to fix himself, trying to fix everybody around him. Without his leg, he might as well be back at home, living with an insane mother and an abusive father, caring for his two siblings. Everything that he had done and become would have been for nothing. Without his leg, he wasn't whole.


	6. Chapter 6

Post Rescue Day 2

"The infection has reached the bone, Alex," Callie told him as she pointed out the damage on the films she'd brought with her. "I can tell you that if I were to remove the bandages, your leg would be black. I wouldn't be surprised if it was still infested since it's been bandaged since the rescue. You're dying, Alex. And I don't want to wait until you've flat-lined and resuscitated you before removing the leg because I can't guarantee we would be able to bring you back. By the time the infection has gotten that bad, it would have pretty much destroyed your heart. We need to do this. Today."

He didn't know what was so hard for her to understand. The intern from the day before was with her again, looking at him like a puzzle.

"What's the point, Callie?" he asked, voice strained. The morphine wasn't helping anymore. It felt like his entire body was on fire. He could feel the infection destroying him from the inside out. "What's there for me? Arizona hasn't been able to get ahold of Hopkins to talk to them about my situation, but I wouldn't be surprised if they'd heard about it already. Meredith and Derek are going to be moving into their friggin' dream house, so I won't have a place to stay anymore. And what if you can't salvage enough nerve function to be fitted with a prosthetic. Or what if the nerves are so screwed up, I'm in excruciating pain for the rest of my life? Then what, Callie? You answer all these questions, and I _may_ consider letting you chop my leg off like a friggin' butcher."

"Alex," the intern started, voice soft and soothing. "I know you don't know me, but here's some things you need to understand. You are dying. The pain you're feeling is your body destroying itself. But you already know this. You're a talented surgeon who has studied under the best pediatric surgeon in the country. If Hopkins isn't willing to wait for you, then screw them. Stay here and continue to study under Robbins. And, again as you already know, Doctor Torres is the best Orthopedic surgeon in the country as well. If there's somebody who could salvage nerve function, it would be her. And if she couldn't, she'd find a way to make sure you weren't in pain. You have to trust your colleagues at this point. If you don't, you will die." After her long-winded speech, he looked between her and Torres.

"You're right, I don't know you. And I don't know who you think you are, but get the hell out! Both of you!" He closed his eyes until he heard both of them leave, at which point he could feel tears stinging his eyes and a lump rise in his throat. He didn't know if it was from the pain or from the emotional whirlwind he was in at that point. What he did know was that sobs were falling from his lips, his knuckles turning white from gripping the sheets, trying to get a grip on reality. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the forest. Every time he looked out the window, he could see the sky above him. Every time he heard somebody crying or screaming, he thought of his own blood curdling screams that came with the pain.

He knew that if there was anybody who could salvage anything, it was Callie. He knew the intern was right. He could continue to study under Robbins and still become a great surgeon. But he didn't know if it was worth it. Would he be able to see a child's broken bone without thinking of his own? Would he be able to handle death with a straight face and dry eyes, or would he be thrown back in time to seeing Mark sobbing over Lexie's corpse? It was the same after the shooting. He hadn't been able to ride in an elevator for days until Chief Webber forced him to ride until he wasn't scared. All he could see was himself lying in a pool of blood waiting to die with fear flooding him. How much would this plane crash really affect him? Would he be able to fly to a case or to go pick up an organ for a transplant? Would he be able to see blood and not think of his own staining the ground? Was saving his life worth it if he didn't know if he could continue being a surgeon?

His body shook even as the sobs subsided. His muscles ached, his skin was clammy. His heart was pounding in his ears. He could tell he was dying, and he wanted to die. He wanted to not be in pain – both physically and emotionally. He would do anything to get a do-over and not get on that plane. But life didn't work that way. Life had never worked that way.

"Alex," Arizona said softly, pulling him out of the restless sleep. He wanted to open his eyes, but he couldn't. It felt like his chest was being crushed, like all air had been forced out of his lungs. It reminded him of when his dad had broken his ribs, the feeling of the bones crushing together. He could still feel the fists on him, destroying the skin and muscle and bone. The pain was excruciating, draining. It felt like he was going to die.

"Stop… Pl…ease…" He wanted the pain to stop, wanted to be safe and free. He wanted to be dead. She took his hand in hers, and he could feel wetness on the skin. It was cold against the flames that were destroying him from the inside. "Ma…ke…it…stop."

"I wish I could, Alex. I really wish I could." In his state, he didn't understand why she couldn't. Had his mind not have been preoccupied by the pain, he would have understood that she was respecting his wishes the best she could. She was trying to give him a fighting chance, despite the pain.

"Doctor Robbins," the intern said. He still didn't open his eyes, but he could see her face. He could see her brown hair, her pale skin and her chocolate eyes. He didn't even know her name, but he could see her face in his mind as he listened to her voice. He couldn't comprehend what she was saying though. "You're listed as his emergency contact. Doctor Torres said that it's time for you to make a choice."

Arizona squeezed his hand and he squeezed back. He gritted his teeth together as another wave of pain coursed through his body. "'Zona… Please… Let…me…"

"Do it, Wilson. Tell Callie to do it." He heard the intern leave before Arizona spoke again. "Alex, your BP is sky high, the infection has gotten into your blood. You're in full blown sepsis. I hope you can understand why I'm doing this. I really hope you can forgive me."

"Thank…You…" She put the oxygen mask on his face as he tried to take deep breaths. He was too stubborn to make the decision for himself, that was why he put her as his emergency contact. He knew she would be able to make the choice he couldn't. Deep down, he wanted to survive even if he didn't know it. Deep down he wanted to be her Fellow and find everything Derek had told him he would.

"Okay, Alex," he heard the intern say – Wilson. "We're going to get started." Blindly, he reached out, grabbing her hand and looked at her. Most of her face was covered by the surgical mask, but he could see her eyes. He didn't know what he saw in them, sadness or guilt? She squeezed his hand as the anesthesiologist secured the mask to his face.

"I need you to count back from ten."

"Ten…Nine…Eight…"


	7. Chapter 7

Six Weeks Post Op

He was curled onto his side, staring out the window of his room. But it wasn't his room, it wasn't his house. It was Mark's, but even then it wasn't Mark's. They'd pulled the plug on Mark a week earlier, but Callie had insisted he stay at Mark's old place after the surgery not only to keep an eye on him but to also know that somebody was close by in case he needed help.

He hadn't brought himself to look at the leg. He had showered and used the bathroom, but he never looked down to see it. He never lifted the covers long enough to look. To an extent, he was ashamed. He was no longer Alex Karev. Instead, he was somebody he didn't recognize anymore. Alex Karev would have fought like hell to get back on his feet, put in the work to get back to work. He wasn't Alex Karev anymore because he was wallowing. He was putting everything off.

"I'm worried about him," he heard Arizona say from the living room. "He hasn't left the apartment. He hasn't really spoken to anybody. It's as if he's given up." She wasn't wrong. "It's been six weeks, Callie. He's given up."

He closed his eyes, not wanting to look at the sky anymore. It was too blue, too bright, too optimistic and cheerful. She was right, he had given up. He'd given up because it felt like he'd died in those woods with Lexie, and it felt like he'd died when they got back like Mark. He wasn't sad, or angry, or upset. He was numb.

"He has to be willing to work towards recovery. We can't force him to want to get better, Arizona. You know that." He heard Arizona grumble in response, but he couldn't make out the words she'd said. The door opened, and he looked at the visitor.

"Callie's going to work. I have the day off, so I'll be with Sofia at home. If you need anything, just call." He kept eye contact for a minute more before shutting his eyes again and pulling the blanket up around him. Before he knew it, he was back asleep.

He slept a lot since he'd gotten discharged from the hospital. He didn't do much else. He slept, he ate, he occasionally watched a movie. He could never get himself to watch the news or listen to the radio. The reports of the accident had died down long ago, but he couldn't hear about the next plane crash or accident or shooting. It was all too much for him to try and comprehend. Even though it felt like it, the world did not start and stop and Seattle Grace and with their accident.

When he woke up again, the sky was pitch black and rain was pouring down in sheets. The sound of the water against the glass reminded him of the sound of the engines of the plane. The sounds of the thunder reminding him of the sound of the plane hitting the trees. Sometimes, the smallest sounds or the slightest smells took him back there. He sat up, swinging his good leg over the side of the bed. Hesitantly, he started putting weight on it, supporting himself on the crutches Callie had left by his bedside.

The feeling of standing up was odd, to say the least. He was expecting to feel more even support. He expected to feel the other leg, but he never did. He still couldn't bring himself to look down at where his leg used to be.

He heard another clap of thunder, which sent fear flooding through his body. Trying to keep his breathing even, he started walking out of the bedroom and into the living room. When he successfully accomplished that, he made his way to the front door of the apartment. Looking around as he did so, he saw Mark's pictures and his belongings. It seemed as if Mark would walk through the door any second to reclaim what was his, but he never did.

He struggled with the front door, trying to keep his balance while trying to unlock the deadbolt. It was a struggle, and his attempts failed with the sounds of thunder echoing around him each time. Finally, he was successful and he crossed the hall, knocking on the door with one of the crutches. He kept tapping at the door until Arizona opened it.

"A-Alex?" she asked, obviously surprised. "Come in. Come in," she then ushered, moving out of his way yet staying close. He knew she worried about him, and to an extent, it made him happy that she cared. After a seeming eternity, he sat on the couch as Arizona sat next to him.

"The storm makes me feel like I'm back there," he admitted quietly. "The rain sounds like the engines and the thunder sounds like when we hit the trees. Arizona, I don't know what to do." He looked at her, pleading in his eyes. "I know why you did it, I know why I pushed against it. But I don't know what to do now."

"The first thing you need to do is acknowledge it. Say it. Look at it. It's not something you can ignore or write off or pretend didn't happen, because it did."

Hesitantly, she rolled up the leg of his shorts just far enough to expose where his leg should have been, but he didn't look. He really couldn't bring himself to look yet. The two stayed looking at each other.

"I…My leg…" He didn't know how to word it. He didn't know how to describe it. Medically was one thing. He could explain the procedure, describe the different techniques that could have or were used, tell each instrument that would have been used. "My leg was amputated." Arizona gave him a small smile. "My leg was amputated," he said again.

"Now, look at it. You said it, now bring yourself to look at it." He squeezed his eyes shut before opening them again with tears threatening. With a clenched jaw, he bowed his head and saw the angry, red scars. He saw where one leg began and where the other ended. He felt his lip quiver, felt the tears land on the stump.

"My leg…" he said with a shaking breath, "was amputated." He knew this was the first step of many hard ones on the road to recovery. He acknowledged it, now it was time to actively work towards getting better. It would mean physical therapy, psychological therapy, and being fitted for a prosthetic.

"Alex," Arizona said. "You're not alone in this. No matter how much it seems like you might be. You're not." She wrapped him in a hug as the tears continued to fall. The two stayed like that, with her comforting him. When a clap of thunder echoed, she'd reassure him he was safe and that he was home. He had never felt like he'd had a home. Growing up, it was never home. Meredith's house – albeit home for many years – was never really home. But there with his friend, he felt like he was home for the first time.

A/N: I just want to thank you all for the reviews and the support with this story. I've been on not only a binge-watch, but also on a writing binge, and it feels so good to be able to read your comments as I'm writing. I hope you've all enjoyed so far, and I hope you continue to enjoy!


	8. Chapter 8

Seven Weeks Post Op

"Okay, let's try the first one, okay?" Jim, the physical therapist said encouragingly. Alex just sat on the table, face like stone as the man reached for the first prosthetic. It looked ancient, nothing like a leg should look. Swiveling back, he held the prosthetic in one hand and the sleeve in the other. "Okay, so first, the sleeve protects your leg. You slide it on just like you would a sock. Go ahead and try." Alex took the sleeve from him, sliding it on the stump.

Even though Arizona had pushed him the past week to continuously acknowledge the lack of his leg and how he lost it, he still hadn't really touched it. He hadn't touched it much willingly. He washed it when he showered, but that was pretty much it. The only other times he touched it were when Arizona or Callie pushed him to. Even then, it was nerve-wracking and emotionally painful. It didn't physically hurt, but in his mind, he remembered the pain that came with it all. He remembered all the pain. He understood that it was the psychological progress, but it didn't feel like it was progress at all. Even when they reassured him that it was.

"Okay. Simple enough. Now, let's slide this on." Jim did as he said he was going to, adjusting the straps until they were secure. It felt odd to feel weight on the stump again, as if his leg was still there. But it wasn't, and he knew it. "How does it feel?"

"Can…Can I just have a minute, please?" Jim nodded in response to his request, standing and walking out, leaving him alone with the leg. Alex took a deep breath, swallowing the lump in his throat. He didn't know if he could do it, didn't know if he could go through with it. He knew he needed to if he wanted to get back to work, but the plastic and metal wasn't a leg – wasn't _his_ leg. It didn't make him feel whole like he wanted it to or like he expected it to.

He bit the inside of his cheek, slowly standing up and trying to put a little weight on it. The door opened and closed as he shifted slightly, trying to get a feel for it.

"How does it feel?" Jim asked. Alex took another deep breath, looking at the leg and then back at Jim.

"It feels like it fits fine, but it doesn't feel right, you know?" Jim gave him a nod and a small smile, sitting on the stool next to him helping him shift around before taking a few steps.

"It's not going to feel like a leg at first. Your body has to get used to bearing weight without being able to feel it. It's going to take time and work, but you seem to be willing to put in that work. I just need you to trust me, and trust that I'm telling you the truth." Alex nodded, smiling at the man. "Let's try the next one."

Three prosthetics later, Alex found the one that felt like it could be his. There wasn't much visible metal. A majority of the exposed parts were plastic, looking like an actual leg. When he thought prosthetic, he thought of what you would see war veterans wearing. But this…This prosthetic screamed that it was an actual leg. He could walk on it, hoped that maybe someday he would be able to run the halls with it. Jim was going to set him up with an actual running prosthetic when he felt ready for when he wanted to go jogging. But until then, he found the prosthetic that seemed like Alex Karev.

Alex walked through the halls of the Pediatric floor looking for Arizona. He was wearing the prosthetic after Jim insisted he try it for a few days. The crutches helped, but Jim was hoping that by the following week, he wouldn't need them much at all, just a cane. As he made his way past the rooms and the patients, he felt at home again. It felt kind of like the leg. It felt like it didn't belong, but it felt good.

"Alex!" Arizona called out, walking over to him with a smile on her face. "How'd it go?" He motioned to the leg with a smile, and she beamed even more, hugging him.

"It's progress," he told her softly. "How are my kids?" He wanted to know everything he'd missed. He'd been gone for seven – almost eight – weeks at that point. She started walking, and he followed.

"Timmy's still here and stable. He's 1B on the transplant list. Kevin went home two weeks ago. Felicia is going strong with her chemo treatments, but she's been having more bad days than good. And Baby Carson got named Cleo. He's three pounds now, packing on the weight, but he still has ways to go." He smiled, glad that at least three of his kids were doing good. Hearing about Felicia worried him, but he knew it came with the territory. All of it came with the territory.

"Who was the intern on my case?" he finally asked. It was a question in the back of his mind that had been there a while. He wanted to know her name, not just Wilson. He wanted to know who was there holding his hand in one of the worst times of his life.

"Josephine Wilson. She has a knack for Ortho – Callie friggin' loves her," Arizona told him with a smile as they neared the elevator. "She's one of the good ones. I've had her with me maybe once or twice. She has a thing though… I don't know what it is, but she really connects with the kids. But she's better at Ortho. Maybe I could convince her to become double board-certified?" Alex laughed with her, thinking her name. Josephine Wilson. It was a mouthful, but it was a beautiful name. He hoped that one day he'd get to thank her.

"Okay. Well, I'm going to head back home. I'll see you tonight, right?" he asked as they waited for the elevator.

"Barring any emergencies, yeah. Callie will be home before I will though, so she'll stop by and check up on you, then I'll drop by when I get home." He mumbled another goodbye as the elevator doors opened. Slowly, he walked in, turning to face the hallway where he belonged. He couldn't wait to get back.


	9. Chapter 9

Back to Work

"Alex!" Timmy yelled as soon as Alex walked into the room. The little boy's smile was contagious, causing Alex to smile back. He sat down in the chair next to Timmy's bed. "I missed you! Did you hear that my heart is going to be here today?"

"I missed you too, and I did hear. I'm going to be the one to put it in you. How does that sound?" Timmy just smiled before talking about everything that had happened while Alex was gone. It was time that should have been spent preparing for Timmy's transplant, but Alex realized it was important that Timmy have this time with him. He wasn't family, but he had been there for everything the young boy had been through.

"Well," Alex finally interrupted when his pager went off. He glanced at it before continuing his sentence. "That's Doctor Robbins letting me know it's time to get you ready. Nurse Samantha will be in in a couple of minutes to get you ready. Your mom and dad are going to be here in a few minutes as well. I'll see you in there." The two high-fived before Alex walked out.

He felt pain in the leg, as if it was chafing. It had been a month since his initial fitting, a month since all the progress had been made in regards to his leg. It had been a rough month filled with disappointment and anger and denial, but the month had passed and he'd been cleared to work finally. So, why did he feel so bad about it?

"You ready for this, Alex?" Arizona asked from across the operating table. She'd gone to harvest the heart in California and bring it back. Nobody had even asked him to go, knowing the answer would be no. He had no desire for getting on a plane any time soon. He nodded.

"Ten blade." He was handed the instrument and made a clean incision. He let his mind drift off, not really thinking about anything or what he was doing. It was as if he was on autopilot. He didn't register the crack of the sternum or the lack of blood when he removed the damaged heart.

Timmy had Congestive Heart Failure since he was three. At that time, he had contracted meningitis which had damaged the tissues of his heart. It was a rough battle, one that was being handled with each curve-ball that was thrown. Originally, it was manageable until shortly before the plane crash. At that point, there was no waiting and no medication that would make it better. Alex had been the one to declare he needed to go on the transplant list.

"Take him off bypass." He glanced up at the clock. Five hours had passed, an hour longer than average. Arizona looked at him as the bypass was turned off and as he waited for the first beat of the new heart. And it did, it beat… It beat and then there was a rush of blood through the incision in the aorta.

"Put him back on bypass, now!" Alex's hands were back in the boy's chest along with Arizona's trying to stop the bleeding or at least lessen it. He just needed more time.

"Three of the stiches busted," he muttered to himself. How had the stitches busted? He couldn't figure it out. He had perfected those stitches, had practiced them at home in preparation for the surgery.

"Hang another bag of O-Neg," he told one of the nurses. It didn't matter who he directed it at as long as it was done. It didn't matter how fast he moved, the blood was rushing out and it was taking too long to put him back on bypass.

"Alex!" Arizona yelled, pulling him out of his thoughts as he tried to stop the non-existent bleeding. "Alex," she said again softer. He looked up at the clock. It had been a half-hour since the stitches busted. It had been a half-hour of wasted time.

He pulled at the gloves and gown, trying to get them off. It felt like he was being suffocated. "Get it off!" Arizona worked to help him until he stood in the operating room in the scrubs and scrub cap breathing heavily.

"Time of death…" he said softly. "Fourteen twenty-three. Robbins, close up." She nodded as he walked out of the operating room to the scrub room looking in through the window. His eyes glanced up at the empty gallery, glad that Arizona had closed it off for the surgery. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he walked out ready to tell Timmy's parents.

He found them sitting in the waiting room, leaning on each other. Hesitantly, he sat next to them. "I have an update," he told them. They perked up, and he didn't want to destroy their hope. He didn't want to destroy their family, but he was going to. He was going to pull their world out from under them. "Despite our best efforts, Timmy's arteries were too weak to handle the surgery. Unfortunately, we were unable to save him. Timmy died. I'm so sorry." The first cry of the boy's mother broke his heart, so he stood and walked as fast as he could to the nearest supply closet trying to keep it together.

 _"Lexie, open your eyes," Mark pleaded. "Keep your eyes open, please Lexie. Please." Mark grabbed her hand, and Alex could hear her breathing for a few minutes. "I love you, Lexie. Please. Please. Please." He saw the tears fall down the man's cheeks onto Lexie's hand. Mark kissed her hand, brushed her hair back, kissed her forehead and cheeks. "I want you to stay for me, but… It's okay to let go, Lexie. It's okay."_

He could see her blood on the ground, on her skin, on Mark. He could see Timmy's blood on his own hands. He didn't know what to do, how to handle it all. In his mind, he was back in those woods with the searing pain coursing through his leg. He could still feel Cristina's hands in his leg, pulling the maggots out. He sat on the ground, and with shaking hands, loosened the leg until he was able to pull it off. He didn't understand how he could still feel all of it as if it was happening.

He cried. Sobs coursed through his body as he tried to process and handle it all. He really didn't know what to do. He didn't save Timmy. He couldn't. The boy had bled out underneath his shaking hands. He was shaking.

The door opened and closed, and he looked up at the guest in his sanctuary. At first, she didn't see him and his shaking and his blood-shot eyes. He looked up at her, waiting for the look of pity he was about to get. That's what always happened when somebody saw him break down – or in general most of the time. They saw the man who was in a plane crash and who lost a leg, not Alex.

"Doctor Karev?" she asked softly, setting whatever she was grabbing back down on the shelf and turning her attention to him. He had to imagine that it was a pathetic sight, a doctor sitting on the floor of a supply closet in tears with his prosthetic leg sitting next to him. If he saw himself, he'd probably punch himself in the face. "Are you okay?"

"Does it look like I'm okay, Wilson?" he replied a little too harshly. She seemed to do a double take, so he just closed his eyes. "I'm sorry. Sorry, Wilson."

"Don't apologize." Her statement confused him. Most people would tell him that it wasn't okay, that he was treating them like shit. "You need to yell at somebody, go ahead yell or cry or scream. Whatever makes you feel better. We've all been at that point from whatever shit we've gone through. It's okay."

"I lost a kid today, Wilson. I've known him for the past two years, and I lost him. On my first day back. And I had to tell his parents that he died," he said calmly, eyes squeezed shut and face toward the ceiling. "And when his mother started crying, all I could think of was Mark Sloan's cries the day we lost Lexie. Day three. I remember that day so easily because I can still feel it in my leg. That was the day Cristina dug her hands around _inside_ my leg."

"I can't start to imagine what you went through." She sat next to him, her hand resting on his. "I can't. I've heard the stories, but… When you came in and Callie and Arizona were visibly upset, I didn't understand. And then I started fitting the pieces together. And you fought so hard, Alex. I saw you, even when you didn't realize it. Those two days before the operation… Just know that you have people in your corner. Okay?"

He nodded, giving her hand a gentle squeeze as he took a deep breath and finally calming down. He didn't look at her, just letting himself be. It reminded him of the day of his operation, only seeing the look in her eyes. That's what he wanted to remember, not the look of pity she most likely had on her face.

"Thank you," he mumbled as she stood up. He couldn't make out what her response was before she walked out the door. With a soft sigh, he slipped the leg back on and stood up – with much difficulty. He wiped his eyes, sniffled, cleared his throat, and then walked back into a world of heartbreak. It was just _so great_ to be back.


	10. Chapter 10

Joe's Bar

He decided it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to go to the bar and have a few drinks. Being back at worked sucked big time, especially after the loss of Timmy. It had messed with his head, big time. Over the past week since it had happened, he didn't feel confident. He didn't feel like himself, so maybe he had to get a little drunk to feel like himself again.

Sitting at the bar, he nursed the beer in his hands, not paying much attention to anything else besides the amber liquid that burned the back of his throat. There were conversations and laughter around him, but it didn't interest him. None of it did really. It was all the white noise to his internal thoughts.

"Evil Spawn lives," Cristina said with a laugh, sitting next to him. She'd taken nearly as long as he did to recover from it all. She'd turned down Mayo and decided to stay, finally getting cleared for surgery a week before he had, but she'd started back earlier than that. Things seemed to be okay between her and Owen, but he didn't see either of them that often, so he couldn't guarantee how she was.

"Yeah… I live," he mumbled taking another drink. He couldn't look at her without feeling her mangling his leg or her hands pulling the maggots out. Quite frankly, he didn't want to look at her because she was a reminder. A part of him wished that Hopkins would have waited for him so that he could have had somewhere to run to after it all. He needed to get away, but he had nowhere to go. Not anymore, at least.

"Alex, I can't talk to Owen about what happened. Meredith and Derek are there for each other, and they both prefer not to talk about it. I need a person for this. I need you to be my person," she admitted. It wasn't like Yang to admit guilt or any kind of weakness. She was strong, badass, a cardio god. He looked at her, flashes of her face from those days in his mind.

"Find somebody else, Yang. Every time I look at you, I can feel your hands inside my non-existent leg and I want to punch you in the face." He saw her swallow before standing and walking away. "Great," he muttered, taking another swig of the beer.

Closing his eyes, he tried to shake the images out of his head, but they were there. That was the unfortunate thing about it all. Whenever the images and memories flashed back, they stayed for a long time. No matter how many breathing exercises he did with the therapist or how drunk he got, he could still remember the screams ripping from his chest and burning his throat – much like the alcohol did. He could remember all the blood and the screaming and the pain and the death and the loneliness and the loss of hope. He remembered it all, and no matter what he did, it would not go away.

"This seat taken?" he heard Wilson ask before sitting next to him. Joe handed her a Long Island, and she took a drink, looking at Alex. When he finally brought himself to look at her, he saw that she didn't look at him like the others did. He didn't see pity in her eyes. He just shook his head as he took another drink and motioned for a refill. "Haven't seen you around much. Keeping yourself out of trouble?"

"You mean not killing kids? Yeah, not doing any of that." She gave him a sad smile, and he finally saw the pity for only a brief moment before she started talking again.

"You got to stop beating yourself up over that, Alex. It's part of the job. I shouldn't be the one telling you that, but apparently I am." He looked at her, dumbfounded.

"Why are you so nice to me? I yell at you, I'm not nice to you. Quite frankly, I don't even know if I really like you. So, why?" he finally asked. He knew he was lying about at least one part of it all. He knew he liked her. She was the only one who treated him like a patient, like a person, not like a friend who would break at the slightest touch or wrong word. She didn't tiptoe around him.

"We've all been through some kind of crap in our life. Yours was this. Mine was a while back. Whatever you're feeling… I know what it's like to have people tiptoe around you, make you feel like you're going to break. I wish I'd had somebody who would just be a listening ear and not somebody who would judge or feel sorry for me. Don't get me wrong, I do kind of feel sorry for you, but not like your friends. Somebody once explained it to me like a before and after." They both took drinks before she continued talking. "You have the people who know you as Alex Karev with both legs. Those are the people that have to work on adjusting. Then, you have people like me. I know you as Alex with one leg. I know you after all the shit happened. So, for me, this is you. As far as I know, this has always been you. So yeah, I'm nice to you because this is who you are to me. I can deal with you not being nice and being a douche half the time, but I've seen you not being a douche, and you're a pretty chill guy."

He smiled, taking yet another drink. The way she explained it made sense. She had managed to make sense out of something he couldn't wrap his head around. He could never figure out why the people in his life reacted the way he did, but she made him finally understand. It was nothing he'd done, but rather what had happened to him.

"I think we got off on the wrong foot," he said with a smile, laughing at his own ridiculous pun. She laughed along with him as he extended his hand and she shook it. "I'm Alex."

"Jo," she replied. Things were finally starting to make sense.


	11. Chapter 11

Reunions

"We want to sue," Derek explained to the room. Meredith sat to his right, Callie to his left, and Cristina was just on the other side of Callie. "By 'we' I mean, Meredith, Cristina, myself, and Callie – on behalf of both Mark and Lexie. We just need you on board, Karev."

He had been staring at the table they were sitting at, making patterns out of the wood. He'd been avoiding looking at them because every time he did, he saw those woods again. It had been a pretty solid plan up until that moment. It had worked, avoiding them. The only time he saw any of them had been Cristina at Joe's bar. And then he was called into a conference room by Callie, not knowing the other three would be in there. When Derek said that they needed him, that it was four against one, his head shot up.

"I-I'm sorry?" he asked, stunned. "I just want to move on from this."

"You're able to move on from this," Meredith cut in. "Derek can't operate. A million-dollar hand is destroyed, and he can't operate. I can't sleep with the lights off or by myself or with my daughter in the next room. Cristina had a mental breakdown. And Lexie… And Mark… This is what _we_ need to do to move on."

Alex looked between the four. They all looked at him as if his hands were inside a dying patient. 'Yes' and the patient lived. 'No' and well… He stood from the table, walking out. He couldn't be in there, not at that moment. He'd get back to them, and he hoped they knew that. But he couldn't be in there surrounded by people looking at him like he knew the meaning of life.

He didn't realize it was raining or that he'd made his way outside until the rain was hitting his face and soaking his clothes. Rather than standing there in the rain, he sat on one of the benches, letting the rain soak him. A part of him wanted the rain to just wash away everything that had happened.

"Alex?" Jo asked with an umbrella. "You're going to get pneumonia. Come inside or go home."

"How…How long…" Jo helped him stand up. He didn't realize how he looked, glassy eyes and confused.

"About an hour. Let me drive you home, okay? Then we can talk if you want to talk, or drink, or just sit in silence." He nodded as they made their way to Alex's car. Half-way there, he handed her the keys, knowing he shouldn't drive. His mind wasn't where it should be, and he didn't want to get into another accident.

"I like the place," Jo said when they walked into the apartment. He hadn't added any of his own touches. Whenever he looked at the apartment, he saw Mark Sloan. It was almost as if he'd kept it as a time capsule. Not for himself, though. He knew he kept it as a Mark Sloan time capsule for Callie.

"Not mine." He disappeared into the bedroom, changing out of his scrubs into a pair of basketball shorts and a black wife beater.

When he came back out, Jo had already pulled a couple of beers out the fridge and had sat down on the couch. He stood there, seeing this woman on his couch – this friend – and he was scared. Not because it was a woman or a friend, but because nobody besides Arizona had seen him like this, with his leg in shorts. He sat next to her, taking the unopened beer from her waiting hand.

"Wanna talk about it?" she asked after taking a sip from her own bottle. He did the same, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back after swallowing. "Or not. So, I was with Yang today and her resident. I can't remember their name, but I'll remember. It's early. But, she disappeared for like an hour or so and this resident didn't know how to do anything. I swear!" Jo laughed as she took another drink. "It was pretty awesome though."

"Tell me your story," he requested. "As much as you want to, but just… Tell me about you." He opened his eyes, taking another drink and turning towards her.

"Grew up in different parts of Iowa. Settled down when I was sixteen, and graduated valedictorian from my high school, perfect GPA, top of my class at both Harvard and Princeton. Decided I needed to get away, so I came here. And, you were my first official patient." He had a million questions he wanted to ask her about everything she'd just said, and he didn't know if he wanted to ask, but the other option would be to talk about what happened that day, and he didn't want to yet.

"Why'd you move around so much?" he finally asked, taking a drink before looking back at her. She was mid-drink when he asked, the bottle still against her lips as she gave him a deer-in-the-headlights look. "If you don't want to answer…"

"My mom abandoned me at a fire station when I was two, and I was bounced around from foster home to foster home until I was sixteen. I lived out of my car for the next two years. What about you? I feel like since you asked about me, then I get to return the favor."

"Also from Iowa. Mom's a schizo, dad's a junkie. He left when I was like ten? Maybe eleven? I pretty much raised my siblings until I was like thirteen. Then, I landed in juvie. Then foster homes – seventeen in four years. Went to Iowa State for both pre-med and med. Then, landed myself here. You pretty much know the rest of that story." They both took another drink.

"What happened today, Alex?" His hand reached for his leg, touching the plastic even though he was still expecting flesh. Absentmindedly, he rubbed the aching leg. It was as if he was expecting it to help, but it didn't. There was still the searing pain that would not go away.

"The others want to sue for the plane crash. Callie's there on behalf of Mark and Lexie. And I'm the final vote. If one person doesn't sue, then none of them can really. They ambushed me, and I just…I couldn't deal with that. I can barely handle dealing with my leg, and…" He shook his head, taking another drink. She nodded. "Do you mind if?" He motioned to the leg.

"I've seen you without it more than with," she responded with a smile. He sat the beer on the table before undoing the straps on the leg. Hesitantly, he took it off, waiting for her to bolt, but she didn't. She didn't stare, just took one glance before taking another drink. He sat the leg at the side of the couch, draping the stump-sock over the top of the leg.

He rubbed his leg a little, trying to get the pain to go away, but it didn't. It just dulled, never subsided. That's all he wanted. All he wanted was for the pain to stop, and for some reason, the others thought that suing would make all their pain stop. They weren't crying at night because the pain got so bad, or had nightmares they woke up from to more pain. He hadn't realized tears had started falling down his cheeks until Jo's hand was on his shoulder.

"They think that suing is going to make all their pain go away, but it won't. It won't make my pain go away or bring my leg back. And it just hurts so bad half the time."

"Hey, hey." She took his hand in hers. "You know that phantom limb pain is common, and you know that's where this pain is coming from. Suing… I can't tell you what you should do. Suing will bring back some bad memories, but don't you want to see justice served? Don't you want to know that people responsible for you being in this pain are punished accordingly?" He nodded, understanding what she was saying.

The next day, he went into work and found them all waiting in the conference room again. Jo stood next to him, being there for him. When he was ready, he walked in, pulling Jo along with him. He needed that support, and she was willing to be there and offer it.

"I'm in."


	12. Chapter 12

Nightmares

She'd been over more nights than she hadn't since he'd agreed to the lawsuit. They'd hang out, drink beer, laugh and joke. Then, she'd go home. They were great friends, and Alex didn't realize it, but he was falling fast and hard, and he'd hit the ground soon enough.

They were sitting on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table, his prosthetic sitting by the couch like it usually did when they'd made their way back to the apartment. The Seahawks game was playing in the background as she filled him in the current intern gossip. It wasn't that he wanted to hear it, but because it was Jo telling him, it made him pay attention.

"So, this Chest Peckwell guy asked you out?" he asked curiously, drinking the last of the beer in the bottle.

"Jason, but yeah." She nodded, finishing hers off as well.

"Well, then. Have fun, be safe. Fill me in on all the details."

She pushed his shoulder with a smile on her face. "I should probably get home," she then told him. He glanced up at the clock, seeing that it was much later than he thought it was.

"You should crash here," he suggested, not thinking anything of it. "You've had quite a bit to drink and it's late. You can just ride with me in the morning. I'll even be a gentleman and take the couch."

"I don't have anything to wear," she said, motioning to the jeans and tank top she was currently wearing. He thought about it for a minute before answering.

"Some of Lexie's clothes are still here. You could wear those, or you could always borrow some of mine. Either, doesn't matter to me." He found it odd that he was offering Lexie's clothes. It was odd to think about wearing a dead person's clothing.

"I think I'll take some of yours." The look on her face told him she was thinking the same thing. He nodded, standing up and grabbing the crutches.

Making his way to the bedroom, he didn't think about what was going on. All he knew is that he was offering Jo a place to crash for the night with no underlying motives – a totally non-Alex thing to do. He really didn't have many female friends who were only friends besides Meredith and Cristina, and even then, he didn't talk to them much since the crash.

He grabbed a t-shirt and basketball shorts out of the drawer. He was already set for bed, so he didn't worry about clothes for himself. Turning around to head back into the living room, she startled him by already standing in the doorway.

"Trying to give me a heart attack?" he asked, tossing the clothes at her. She caught them with a smile. "G'night."

"Night, Alex." He grabbed an extra blanket before going back out into the living room. He laid down on the couch, pulling the blanket around him and let his mind wander to this Chest Peckwell guy – Jason Meyers. Jo seemed really excited about it all, so he tried to be excited as well, but something was nagging him. He couldn't pinpoint it exactly, but something didn't seem quite right.

 _"Derek!" Meredith's voice was the first to pierce through the screaming. Who was screaming? That's when he realized that the screams were tearing from his chest, his throat burning with each yell. "Derek!" Their screams mingled together, clashing. He looked down at his body, his leg the source of a majority of the pain. Clawing at the fabric, it finally ripped away to reveal a sight he didn't want to see._

 _His upper thigh was mangled, skin shredded. The femur was jutting out at a disgusting angle, at least six inches of bone showing. His chest burned as he held back the screams, whimpering slightly. "Derek!" Meredith screamed again, but the only thing he could focus on was his leg and trying to keep the pain at bay._

 _"Alex," he heard Cristina say from beside him. She was kneeling on the ground, her hands trying to keep his bleeding at bay. He hadn't even felt her hands on his leg until she brought him out of his thoughts. The ground was wet, soaking through the clothes on his back._

 _"I can't lose it, Yang." His voice pleaded with her, and she nodded. Hopkins wouldn't want him if he lost his leg. Hopkins wouldn't wait that long for him. If he lost the leg, it would be months of healing before he could be fitted for a prosthetic - if he would even qualify for one. There might not be enough leg to salvage to fit one, or there would be too much nerve damage that would cause too much pain to be fitted for one._

 _"I have to find Mark and Lexie. Meredith is looking for Derek. I'll be back, Alex." She stood, and he started to panick. He could tell the pilot was dead from the way his body was mangled and bent in the cockpit. She couldn't leave him alone, so he grabbed her arm before she could turn away._

 _"Don't." His voice was pleading. "Please don't."_

He was shaken from the dream by a confused Jo. She was kneeling next to the couch, worry on her face. One of her hands was resting on his chest, the other on his cheek. Neither said anything until his breathing slowed down and he had a better grip on reality. He heard the front door open and close.

"Alex?" Arizona asked from across the room.

"I'm fine, 'Zona. It's fine. Go home." His eyes didn't leave Jo's. He could tell she was worried. "I'm fine, Jo." He heard Arizona leave, mumbling incoherently.

"That didn't sound fine, Alex." He realized that she'd never slept at his place before, had never heard his nightmares or his screams that Arizona and Callie could hear from across the hall. Sitting up, he pulled her up on the couch next to him.

"It is fine, Jo. It's normal. Ever since…I don't think about it during the day that much. Occasionally, if I see one of the others – especially Yang – or if something reminds me of it, but I don't. When I sleep… Arizona is usually over here at least three to four times a week when I wake them up. It was worse at first. She lived over here most nights, waking me up multiple times a night. And then the nightmares got better, and she went back home. Anyway… I'm okay. I'm sorry I woke you up." She leaned into him and he wrapped his arm around her.

"Go back to sleep, Jo," he told her after a few minutes. "I'll be fine." She pulled away and looked at him.

"Only if you come with me. Maybe all you need is to know somebody's there for you." They looked at each other for a minute before they both stood up.

"No funny business," he warned her with a smirk.

He sat the crutches next to the bed as he sat down. She went ahead and laid down next to him as he gathered his thoughts. It wasn't that it was something of a sexual nature, because it wasn't. There was nothing wrong with two friends sleeping in the same bed. There had been times Meredith or Izzie – before they hooked up – had crawled into his bed in the middle of the night. It was the fact that he'd been alone for so long that maybe he didn't know how to accept the help and care that was being offered.

When he sorted everything out in his mind, he laid down next to her, covering them up. Automatically, she curled into him, his arm wrapping around her and holding her close. He hoped that maybe, just maybe, this would help like she suggested it might. He could only hope.


	13. Chapter 13

Start of the Lawsuit

"I agreed to sue, but I didn't agree to this," Alex said, standing from the table and the questioning lawyers. Meredith glared at him, Derek looked at him with confusion. Each person looked at him a different way, but those two stood out to him. He didn't understand how nobody could understand how all these questions made him feel.

"Doctor Karev," one of the lawyers said softly. "We need to get an idea of how much this has affected your life in the long run." He audibly scoffed at the woman.

"How much…" He shook his head, trying to wrap his head around it. "How much it's affected my life?" He pulled up his pant leg to show the prosthetic. "This is how much it's affected my life. I still feel Cristina's hands _inside_ my leg – a leg that's not even there. I suffer from phantom limb syndrome. I haven't slept through the night since the accident. Five months and six days of not sleeping through the night. This is what you wanted to hear, right? I mean, you have those three who don't deal with it like I do. Yeah, Derek may not operate, but Callie's working to help him. None of you have done anything to help me. It was pretty much, 'let's cut off his leg' and then not talk to him until we need him. Well, screw you all." He walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

He was fuming in anger. How dare they! Everything he said in there was true, even the fact that Meredith hadn't said two words to him since they got back aside from asking for him to agree to the lawsuit. By the time he made it to the elevator, he could feel his heart pounding in his chest as if it was going to break through his ribcage. He took a few deep breaths to slow himself down and calm himself down. It was one of those times he still had his leg, so that he could run. That's what he really needed. He needed to feel the pavement reverberating through him as he tried to outrun his problems.

This was the guy who won All State in wrestling. This was the guy who got a wrestling scholarship that put him through his four years of undergrad at Iowa State. This was a guy who had gone running practically every morning for nearly fifteen years. And now he couldn't. He wasn't Alex Karev anymore, and he really felt like it that day. Who was he? That was the question he'd been trying to answer ever since they'd been brought back from the woods. The fact was that to him, he'd died out there. A major part of him had died, and he didn't know how to recover from that.

Jo had been spending more time with Chest Peck—Jason Meyers. He'd promised he'd try and call Jason by his actual name. But, she'd been spending more time with him and wasn't spending as much time with Alex. He wasn't jealous per-se, but it was definitely an adjustment. Jo had hung out with him nearly every night for the past three months and now it was as if she'd never been there.

"What do you have for me?" he asked Arizona once he'd reached the nurse's desk. She looked at him with confusion, and he knew that she knew he was supposed to be in a conference room preparing for the lawsuit. "I don't want to talk about it."

"New admit in Room Three – CF. It's pretty advanced. She's here waiting for a lung transplant. Oh. Can you talk to Jenny in Room Six? She's also a new admit. I think you can get through to her better than I can." He nodded, taking the patient files from her and flipping through them.

"Hey, Jenny. I'm Doctor Karev," he announced as he walked into the room. When he looked up from the chart, his breath caught in his throat.

"It's okay. I'm used to the stares," she told him with a roll of her eyes and a sigh. He did a double take. Both of her legs had been amputated at the knees. "It was a car accident, if you were wondering. But they're infected, so yay, right?"

"I wasn't staring," he assured. He pulled up his pant leg just enough to show her his prosthetic. "Because I'm used to the stares too. Sometimes, the kids I work with ask me if I'm a robot." She laughed at that as he took a seat next to her.

"At least you get that. Even if they weren't infected, it's hard to be fitted as a double amputee." He nodded, knowing fully well that double amputees had it harder than singles.

"Your vitals seem to be doing pretty good right now. One of the nurses will be in soon to change the dressings, as you probably already know. I'll be back in a while to check up on you." He smiled, giving her a high five before he stood up and walked out.

He didn't understand why Arizona would give him Jenny's case. To an extent, he did. It was sometimes easier for kids to process when they knew somebody understood their pain, but she seemed oddly fine with it all. According to her chart, the amputations had been done barely two months prior. It was enough time to start processing, but it took him nearly three to finally even start to accept it all. It seemed like so long ago that he'd been fitted for the prosthetic, odd to think it was only two months before.

He wanted to run, hard and fast. He wanted to feel the sun beating down on his skin and the feeling of the air against him and the feeling of his heart pounding in his ears. He wanted that high that came from it, just like he longed for the high of surgery again, but he didn't get it. It was as if he was on auto-pilot the entire time he did a surgery, and he couldn't run, so what was there for him.

"Hey, you want to grab drinks tonight?" Jo asked as she fell into step beside him. She had a smile on her face, her hair was pulled back into a ponytail.

"Not tonight." His voice was harsher than he'd wanted it to be, but what was said was side. She glanced at him with confusion, but just gave him a nod.

He walked into the apartment, surrounded by Mark's things. There were still pictures of Mark and Lexie or of Mark and Sofia or of Mark and Derek. This wasn't home, it never was. It had been and would always be Mark Sloan's place.

He sat on the couch and pulled out his laptop from his bag. Flipping it open, he logged in before typing his search into the search bar. It was time to find out who this new Alex Karev was without being held back by all the memories Mark's place held.


End file.
